Dragon Age Noir
by OrilliaOrange
Summary: Mysterious idols of Andraste are appearing through Thedas, hiding a dark secret. The Inquisitor sends Cassandra to Kirkwall, to recruit Varric, and solve the problem.
1. Chapter 1

The night was young, and the bar was full already. The Hanged Man was a dive, but it was my dive, filled with the kind of people you wanted to stay friends with. Loud music drowned out most of the conversations, which was probably a blessing. Girls in short, shimmering dresses flung themselves around the dance floor, moving around their partners with frenetic energy. Colourful cocktails sloshed about, smoke wafted its way towards the ceiling from countless cigarettes. Another normal night at the Hanged Man, until she walked in.

I took a moment to appreciate her. With women like the Seeker, you took risks getting an eyeful, but it was always worth it. She hadn't spotted me yet, so I took my time looking. The Seeker's legs went on for miles, her body long and pliant, but sturdy. Her dark hair was cropped too short for fashion, but it only emphasized the harshness of her cheekbones, and her dark eyes, hot as coals. She looked good, in her crisp charcoal suit, but in a joint like the Hanged Man, the Seeker was out of place.

Mine weren't the only eyes tracking the Seeker's progress through the bar. Several shifty looking pairs of eyes followed her through the bar's hazy atmosphere. Most of the smart ones took a quick survey and saw the same thing I saw- messing with the Seeker would get you burned. The others were probably about to learn a harsh lesson, if they tried anything.

The Seeker's questing gaze finally found me, and there was no more denying that it was me she was after. In retrospect, I thought, going back to Kirkwall had probably been a bad choice. Not if I wanted to stay off the radar.

"Varric." Short, but definitely not sweet. The Seeker loomed over me, arms hanging loose at her side.

"Cassandra." I tipped my glass in her direction. "Care for a drink or are we skipping straight to the interrogation?"

The Seeker wrinkled her nose. On anyone else, it would've been adorable. On the Seeker's stern face, it was more the look of someone who's wondering what that smell is.

"Always charming, Seeker." I took a drink, slung one arm over the back of my chair, and waited. Either the Seeker would relent, or I'd wind up with a fist in the face.

With an expression of extreme distaste, the Seeker pulled out the chair opposite mine, and sat down.

Silence reigned over our table, interrupted by the waitress, and by several intoxicated dancing ladies shimmying by to say hello.

I'm a patron of the arts, what can I say?

The Seeker watched all the carrying on with a wary, suspicious gaze. Once the girls left, leaving only the scent of cigarettes and perfume behind them, I couldn't resist giving the Seeker a wink, smiling as I settled back into my chair.

"What brings you to Kirkwall, Seeker? Up for a little R&amp;R? Wondering how the rebuilding was going?" I laughed. Unimpressed, the Seeker gave me a flat look, and I couldn't resist adding "R&amp;R, Seeker? Means rest and relaxation. I was wondering if you were familiar with the concept."

Lightning fast, her face darkened like a thundercloud.

"I am familiar with both, dwarf", she growled. "I am here on business. On behalf of the Inquisition."

"That so? What's so important it merits the Seeker coming all the way out here to chat? Or am I just lucky?" I asked.

I never could get over how every emotion showed on the Seeker's face. Made you wonder how she'd risen to be Right Hand of the Divine with such a shitty poker face.

"It is a sensitive matter", the Seeker spat out. "The Inquisitor would appreciate your… help."

"You know if you missed me that much, you could've just said so."

Being a smartass is going to be the death of me, one day. The Seeker's desire to shake me like a terrier shakes a rat was written across her face so strongly, you'd have to be blind to miss it.

Subtly, a few bar patrons shifted, prepared for whatever was going to happen next. For a moment, the bar was on edge, waiting to see what the Seeker would do.

"On behalf of the Inquisition, I am to… partner with you and solve our current problem. Quietly." the Seeker gritted out. "It is a delicate matter. One we do not wish to spread, and one which you have a personal stake in."

Well. Shit.


	2. Chapter 2

"Is there nowhere we can speak in private?" the Seeker asked, peevishly. Around us, the respectable patrons of the Hanged Man were doing their best impression of people who weren't eavesdropping.

"I have rooms upstairs, Seeker. If I'd known I'd be having visitors, I'd have cleaned up the place." I said, watching the Seeker's frown deepen. She was going to wind up stuck that way, one day.

"How can I resist such a… tempting offer?" I said loudly, standing and smirking at the Seeker. "Sam! A round for the bar, to celebrate!" Our watchers turned back to their drinks, their gambling, and their dancing girls.

The look of poorly stifled rage on the Seeker's face didn't bode well for me, but she had never been a harbinger of good fortune for me, anyways.

"Coming, Seeker?" I headed towards the back stairs, trusting that the Seeker would follow me, if only so she could kick my ass in private.

Opening my door, I ushered the Seeker through with a little bow. Her face contorted strangely, as I followed her through and lit the lamps.

Politely, I ignored her expression of disbelief, though it was always a fulfilling feeling to have one over the Seeker. The suite I'd claimed for my own was opulent. Plush carpets, ornate furniture, the works.

"Well then. You going to tell me what all this is about?" I crossed the room and sprawled in the armchair behind my desk. The Seeker took about a half second to adjust her face back to its usual disdain, before shunning the other chair in favour of towering over my desk.

"I have no patience for your usual… impudence." The Seeker said.

I was pretty sure I could guess what word she'd omitted in favour of _impudence_. So of course I slouched further in my armchair, and watched as the Seeker's eyes flicked down to the open neck of my shirt.

"My eyes are up here, Seeker."

"Must you always be so... " she gestured wordlessly at my tunic.

"Roguishly handsome? Chiseled and manly? Virile?" I suggested.

The Seeker muttered something unflattering about my ancestors in Nevarran, and sat down.

"Enough of your foolishness, Varric." In the light thrown by the lamps, the Seeker's face was even sharper hewn than usual. "The Inquisition has sent me here because of this… and some rumours."

The Seeker pulled a slim box, about the size of a cigar box, made of metal, and placed it on my desk. I reached over and flipped open the lid. Heavier than I'd expected, and when I saw the small idol inside, I was confused.

"Bringing me presents, Seeker?" The painted idol of Andraste sat in its case, inoffensive.

The Seeker grunted in exasperation.

"Do you never think before you talk, dwarf?"

I dragged the box closer. Still only a small, crude idol of Andraste.

It called to me, somewhere in the back of my mind I could hear the faintest whisper of a song.

"Seeker, tell me this isn't what I think it is."

"I cannot. It is the only one of its kind we have found whole. Idols of Andraste, carved from red lyrium."

"Fuck." I sat back in my chair, and pushed the idol back to the Seeker. "Why the hell did you bring that with you?"

"As I said, it is the only one we have found whole. Dagna has taken a sample of it, but requires more information." The Seeker closed the box's lid, and the singing stopped. "Though she did create the box, a slimmer version of traditional dwarven lyrium containers."

A wry smile crossed the Seeker's face, and I was pretty sure I didn't like it.

"She says it ought to prevent us from the effects of the red lyrium. Probaby."

"Ancestors." I trusted Dagna, insofar as you can trust anyone that smart. But red lyrium had done worse to smarter people. "And we're supposed to just carry that thing around with us?"

"I will keep it, if the idol bothers you that much, Varric." the Seeker said. "I did not forget the circumstances of our first meeting."

"Ever replace that copy of Tale of the Champion? You know, the one with the big dagger through it?" I asked.

"I...did not. As you well know, Varric." the Seeker shifted in her seat, and if I didn't know better, I would've said she was a little embarrassed. "Regardless. The Inquisitor has requested we find the source of the red lyrium, how they're creating this protective coating, and why."

"Big job." Too big for two people.

"The information we've managed to gather suggests there is a lead here in Kirkwall. Dagna is certain the protective coating could only be the work of a mage." The Seeker looked around her, "We are to find whether there is any mage with Venatori sympathies in the city. Past that, it is up to our own discretion, and whether it merits additional agents from the Inquisition."

I sighed. Talk about your thankless jobs. Seemed not much had changed, since I'd left the Inquisition behind. The Inquisitor was still aiming for patron saint of lost causes. And bees, if Sera had a say.

The Seeker tucked the box back into a pocket of her suit, and stood up. "I will find you tomorrow, Varric. Early."

"You'll find me asleep, then." I retorted.

The Seeker shot me a scathing look, one no doubt reserved for layabouts who weren't up at the crack of dawn every day.

"Early, Varric. I have no desire to stay in this city longer than needed." With that, the Seeker turned on her heel and left.

Brusque, as always. Cassandra had no tact. Nice to see some things never changed, I thought. Well, if I was going to spend however long with one surly Seeker, hunting down some crazed assholes who thought dealing with red lyrium was a brilliant idea, I damn well wasn't going to spend my last free night worrying about it all.

Back in the Hanged Man's main room, the crowd greeted me with a roar. Amazing what friendship free drinks will buy you. Picking up a drink of my own, I settled in to enjoy the raucous joy of music and dance. One last night before everything went to shit.


	3. Chapter 3

"Varric. Varric!" The Seeker's insistent voice was the first thing to cut through my sleep, before she tore the covers off my bed.

"Maker take you!" Was the second thing I heard.

Slowly, I sat up and pulled the blankets back up to waist height. "Good morning to you too, Cassandra."

It was always a treat to see the usually stern Seeker get her feathers ruffled, but this time the price was a little steep. Still, I'm not so attached to my own dignity that I couldn't find the whole thing funny.

"I apologize, Varric. I did not think before I acted." The Seeker told my bedroom door. "There was another message from the Inquisitor waiting for me this morning."

That sounded like the kind of thing you should wear pants for. Mine were draped on the chair where I'd left them.

"No peeking, Seeker." I stood up, waited for the noise of disgust from the Seeker, and grabbed my clothes.

"I'm decent, Seeker." I said modestly, flicking the blankets back over my bed.

"For once." Cassandra said under her breath.

"Was that a joke?" Gods, it was barely dawn, and the Seeker was cracking wise. Too damn early for that, by far.

"Much as I'd like to go dashing off into the unknown towards certain danger, food might be a good idea. Eaten yet, Seeker?"

Her stomach rumbled in response, which I figured meant she'd appreciate a bit of breakfast.

"I would rather not let this lead go cold, Varric."

"Man cannot exist on justice alone, Seeker."

We compromised, which meant neither of us were particularly thrilled with the outcome. Mostly me, since the Seeker's idea of a compromise was that we'd exist on justice, and I'd be grateful to not eat dirt.

Outside the Hanged Man, a sleek looking black Daimler lurked, surprisingly unmolested by the inhabitants of Lowtown which was a small miracle. A group of ragged looking kids clustered around it, admiring the car's sleek lines and standing on the runners.

As we neared the car, the kids scattered. One look at the Seeker's face told me why no one had bothered trying anything with her car. Someone who wanted to risk the wrath of Cassandra Pentaghast was someone very stupid or very confident. Maybe both.

I was pretty sure I knew which category I was in.

Cassandra slid behind the car's wheel, and I couldn't help but think they'd been made for eachother. Fierce, predatory lines, smooth and flowing, the kind you wanted to run your hands over.

Thoughts like that were liable to get me in more trouble than they were worth.

"Inquisitor letting you drive? Pixie's got a death wish." I remarked.

The only response I got was a grunt, as the Seeker peeled away from the curb.

"How's the Pixie, anyways? Been a while since I had a letter."

"She is well. As is Sera." The Seeker's lips quirked up a fraction, and she darted a quick look my way "They filled my luggage with unmentionable things three times. I had to hide my suitcase with Cole."

That made me laugh. The kind of things the Seeker deemed 'unmentionable' ranged from underclothes to rude looking vegetables. And ostensibly romance novels, if you asked her.

"Not going to share, Seeker? Probably for the best, the truth couldn't beat what I could imagine."

"They were… violently red. And transparent." Cassandra said, that same smile playing around her mouth. "Where they found such things, I do not know."

"That.. leaves a hell of a lot to the imagination."

"The same can't be said for them. I expect I have Bull to blame for that particular 'gift'. He asked after you. Sends his regards, as does Dorian." Cassandra carefully steered the long bonnet of the car through the Lowtown streets.

The Daimler purred through Lowtown, the opposite of subtle.

"You know if you wanted to blend in, you picked the wrong time and the wrong car," I told her, watching Lowtown blur through the window. "Everyone knows Lowtown doesn't come alive til evening."

"I know." The Seeker turned the car around another corner, towards the docks.

"I really hope you have a plan beyond 'look obvious and hope the bad guys try and shoot us', Seeker." We were drawing attention from every beggar, brigand, and sailor we passed. Not that I could blame them, the Daimler was damn sexy.

"Of course. The car was the Inquisitor's idea." Cassandra slid a hand along the dashboard, stroking the black leather. "A subtle but strong reminder that the Inquisition is not afraid."

"I get the feeling you'd like to be alone with the car, Seeker." I said. Hell, I wanted to be alone with the car. "She got a name?"

"The car? Varric, you are the only one who gives names to objects." The Seeker gave me some serious side-eye.

I patted Bianca's holster protectively. "There there, Bianca baby. The Seeker's just jealous."

"I am not jealous, Varric. The way you fondle that gun is… obscene at best."

"Definitely jealous." I said, tempting fate.

The Seeker took the next corner a bit sharply, and I slammed against the passenger side door.

"I beg your pardon, Varric. The streets here are a bit narrow." The Seeker's lips were pressed together tightly, the way they were when she was trying not to look pleased.

"Alright. I'll can the smart ass remarks. Fill me in on this lead of yours." I said.

The Seeker made a noncommittal noise, and pulled a slip of paper from her breast pocket.

"This is the note the Inquisitor sent. Does it sound like anyone you might know?"

"Seeker, I don't want to shock you but it's entirely possible I don't know every apostate mage, thief, and pirate in this town." I said, only a little serious.

The note, in Pixie's looping handwriting, stated that the Inquisition had received a request from a woman in Kirkwall whose daughter had disappeared from the College of Magi. A mage, studying the effects of red lyrium, and containment of it.

"I take it we're going to talk to the mage's mother, then?" I studied the note. Sera had decorated one margin with bees shooting out of an arse. "You know she could just be dead. This isn't much of a lead, Seeker."

Definitely not enough of a lead to merit yanking me out of bed at an ungodly hour.

"It is possible. Either way, it is the best we can do." The Seeker gently eased the Daimler into a parking spot in front of a dilapidated apartment building. "We have no other leads, and the timing is too close."

The neighbourhood was typical of Lowtown, particularly the area near the docks. Run down, but there was a little pride on display. The steps of the apartment block were clean, the doors and shutters had all been painted within the last few years, and someone was trying to raise flowers in small chipped pots arranged along the stoop's edge. As always in Lowtown, we were being watched. The watchers probably didn't have any malicious intent, just the ever present curiosity of people who trade on what they did or didn't see.

Cassandra shut the car down, and went through the motions of checking her gear. Gun, ankle gun, knife, extra rounds, extra knife, and _well_. That was new.

"Brass knuckles, Seeker? Little low brow of you."

Cassandra ignored me, tucked the brass knuckles into her jacket pocket, and let herself out onto the street.

My fingers slipped down to check Bianca, lingered on her engraved grip. I wasn't too worried, but it never hurt to be prepared.

I had a sinking feeling it was going to be a long morning.


	4. Chapter 4

Jane Bourne, the missing mage's mother, was a washed out, pinched looking woman. In her little apartment, there wasn't much evidence of more than one person. A small altar to Andraste rested on one shelf, while religious icons dotted the walls between potted plants in varying states of death.

"Auri wasn't what you'd call _consistent_. Not by a long stretch." she said, twisting bony hands together. "Sent me letters on and off, usually for the holidays, or when something reminded her she had a mother."

"Did she tell you of her studies? Her friends? Anything about where she might've gone?" Cassandra asked.

"Not much. Expect she thought it was over my head." The woman's thin lips compressed into a line, nearly disappearing in her pale face. "Said something about somebody comin' to hire her on, but after that I don't know. Probably forgot about me, haring off halfway cross the country on her own business."

"That's a shame. Can't imagine what would drive a kid to be so disrespectful," I said.

Cassandra and the mother both shot me looks. The Seeker glared, the mother looked appreciative.

"Exactly! You raise them, you teach them to be upright, obedient, respectful…" Jane snorted, "Then they go off to those schools, and get too big for their britches. Think they know better than their elders."

"It's a damn shame," I said soberly. Sarcasm flew right over the woman's head.

"I might have Auri's last letter round here. Give me a minute, I'll find it for you," Jane stood, and disappeared into the adjoining room.

"You've made a conquest, Varric." Cassandra sounded disgusted.

"I am immensely charming, Seeker." I said. "Don't worry, you're still the only brusque battleaxe for me."

I was saved from an introduction to the Seeker's brass knuckles by the re-entry of Auri Bourne's mother.

"Here it is. Came round the second week of Molloris." Jane Bourne held out the letter, dotted with travel stains.

"Thank you, ma'am." Cassandra took the letter, studied it, and tucked it into an inner pocket of her jacket.

"You figure out where that harebrained daughter of mine is, you tell her to stop messing around with all this magic nonsense. Only gets a body in trouble." With that, the old termagant stood, clearly we were dismissed.

"We'll give her your regards." The Seeker said, and turned on her heel without so much as a nod to the old baggage.

I tipped an imaginary hat at the old woman, and followed Cassandra out of the apartment, and onto the street.

"Steamed, Seeker?" I asked, mostly just to annoy her. It was obvious to anyone with eyes that she wasn't happy.

Cassandra shot me a glare that would've scared ten lesser men. Fortunately I'd been on the receiving end of her evil looks so often, I was immune. Mostly.

"I do not enjoy wasting time." The Seeker gave the building a dirty look, and I could've sworn the paint peeled. "We have not learned anything new."

"I don't know about that, Seeker." I said, "I mean, look at this morning; you learned that I still-"

"Shut. Up." Cassandra growled. "You are unbelievable."

"Why Seeker, I'm flattered!"

"You weren't meant to be. Get in the car, Varric." The Seeker opened her door with a little more force than necessary.

The tips of her ears were pink. Smiling, I slid into the passenger seat. "Any chance you'll let me drive this baby?"

"As soon as you let me fire Bianca" was the answer I got, along with a slight smirk.

"Any chance of breakfast?" I asked, trying a new tack.

"First we send our report to the Inquisitor." Cassandra said

I sighed. "Then, breakfast?"

"Yes Varric. Then breakfast."

The nearest greasy spoon was a place called "Bo Peep's". It was one of the few places in Lowtown offering cheap food that wouldn't come back to haunt you. Regardless, the Seeker's gaze roved around the place incessantly.

"Seeker. Venatori agents aren't lurking in the kitchen, it's probably safe to eat your breakfast." I said, stabbing a fork into a pile of hashbrowns.

"It's not the Venatori I'm worried about, it's the grease." The Seeker prodded her eggs with a fork. "How you've managed to eat like this and pass thirty, Varric, is a miracle."

"When in Lowtown, eat as the Lowtowners do, Seeker." I said, "A little grease is good for you. Builds character, or something."

Cassandra clearly didn't believe me, but that wasn't new. Distrusted even over breakfast foods. She really knew how to take the wind out of a dwarf's sails.

Silence reigned over the table while I ate and Cassandra rearranged her food.

"Kirkwall seems to be doing well."

"That's a statement, Seeker. Not a question."

Cassandra exhaled sharply. "Ass."

We ate in silence, while the Seeker rearranged her thoughts. "How do you find the new Kirkwall?"

"Nearly the same as the old one, Seeker. Just a little newer in places." I said, shortly.

Cassandra stirred her food around with her fork, dark brows drawn into a deep V. They met with a wrinkle over her nose.

"And your _friends_?" she asked. There was an emphasis on the last word I didn't want to think too hard about.

"Scattered. Except for Aveline."

"The guard, of course." Cassandra said. "Is that all?"

"Seeker, if you want to know who I've been keeping company with, you should consult my secretary."

Cassandra gave me a look fit to curdle milk.

"And do your friends keep in touch, Varric?"

"Thought you gave up on reading my mail, Seeker. Something about not being your prisoner anymore?" I said, "It's been a while, maybe it slipped your mind."

"I have not forgotten, Varric." Cassandra pursed her lips, and spoke slowly. "Have you heard from Bianca, recently?"

That was a surprise. The Seeker and I had an unspoken agreement- I didn't pry into her love life, and she left mine alone. The one time we'd broken that rule had been a hell of a disaster.

"Bianca? Seeker, I know I act like she can talk, but Bianca's a gun," I said.

"Do not play with me, Varric," Cassandra growled.

Maker, there were a lot of things I could say to that. All of which would probably get me stabbed, the way Cassandra was holding her fork.

"No. Not since the last time," I said, sounding calmer than I felt.

The Seeker stared at me, or rather she stared right through me, still brandishing her fork like a weapon.

"Going to have to trust me sometime, Seeker," I told her. After all the time that had passed, I'd thought things would've been different between us. She'd been the first one to scold me for acting like I was still her prisoner, but it seemed that old habits died hard for the Seeker.

"Trust is earned, Varric," Cassandra said, sounding tired. Her fork speared a piece of egg, and we resumed eating in silence.


	5. Chapter 5

The Seeker dropped me off at the Hanged Man, and peeled away from the curb with a squeal of tires. That more than anything showed how pissed she was. The only thing in the world that woman loves more than Truth, Justice, and the Thedosian way, is her car.

It was a petty victory to have Cassandra speeding away from me as fast as she could, and one I didn't really savour. The whole day had been a hell of a mess. All I wanted was a drink, and all the comforts the Hanged Man had to offer.

Instead, a beautiful woman undulated towards me, a cloud of curly blonde hair floating around her head.

"Varric Tethras?" she breathed, a small smile peeking out from the edges of her bright red mouth.

"I'd say it depended on who was looking, but I know better," I said, warily.

The blonde pouted attractively, and bent down to rest a plump hand on my shoulder. Platinum blonde hair whispered against my cheek, the scent of hairspray heavy in my nose.

"You're too close," the blonde muttered into my ear.

Rich coming from a woman who was doing her best impression of an octopus.

"I love your books!" the blonde said in a girly voice, yanking a copy of Hard in Hightown out from her improbably tiny purse.

I signed the book, and the blonde sauntered out of the tavern, hips swinging.

"Shit, Varric. Tell her to come back tonight, will you?" Some ass at the bar slurred.

"You can't afford her, and you wouldn't want to," I called back, shoving my hands in my pockets.

Paper crinkled.

Goddamn sleight of hand. It's only fun when I do it, dammit.

Whistling cheerfully, I made my way up to my suite, and lit the lamps.

No one murdered me, or leapt out from the shadows shouting "AHA!" so I figured whatever the blonde had been on about wasn't pressing.

I settled down behind my desk, and set the note out on the blotter. It was crumpled, which I expected. Sloppily folded, nothing written on the exterior. The name written inside wasn't one I knew. Something about it suggested Orlais. What it suggested to me was that I should call the Seeker, send a message to Leliana, and watch my back. Whoever sent the bombshell either wanted me to know they were onto us, or was trying to warn us about someone. Either way I had a feeling we were in trouble.

With a sigh, I picked up the phone and dialed the number Cassandra had given me. Knowing the Seeker, she'd gone back to her hotel to beat the ever loving shit out of whatever gym equipment they had. Besides, I wasn't too keen on talking to her at the moment.

"Hotel Kirkwall, how may I help you?" a snotty voice on the other line said.

"Yeah, I'd like to leave a message for Cassandra Pentaghast in room 300?" I said, halfway through formulating a message that would piss the Seeker off.

Unfortunately, that was when half my suite blew up.

The explosion flared bright white, everything went eerily silent, before a high pitched ringing started in my ears. I dove under my desk, sliding Bianca out of her holster. The explosion came from the half of my suite that served as a bedroom, so whoever it was probably knew I hadn't bitten the big one.

That meant they were probably watching to make sure their little present had been received.

Maker, the ringing in my ears was obnoxious.

No one stormed up the stairs, which showed a touching lack of concern from the Hanged Man's staff.

Tentatively, I poked my head out from under the desk. Most of my room was on fire, and a large chunk of roof and wall had been blasted into smithereens by the explosion.

Absently, I noticed that my left arm was hot, and my cheek throbbed. My sleeve was torn all to hell, spattered with burn marks, and it probably matched my face.

Heavy footsteps sounded on the stairs, I brought Bianca up to fire, waiting until whoever it was showed themselves.

"Andraste preserve us…" a familiar voice said, in a strange tone of voice.

"Cassandra?"

"Varric!" Cassandra's voice called out from the hallway.

"Clear, Seeker," I said, tiredly.

"Maker, Varric. What the hell did you do?" Cassandra snapped, lowering her gun.

"I redecorated!" Andraste's ass, why the hell was everything my fault? "What do you think I did, Seeker? Blow up my own damn room just to piss you off?"

Cassandra growled, and grabbed my arm. Soot smudged her face, and it was almost as an afterthought that I remembered the tavern was on fire.

"The desk clerk was having a fit when I came in! Babbling about an explosion and a message for me," Cassandra started dragging me out of the Hanged Man, down a back set of stairs I was pretty sure she shouldn't have known about.

"I could see the smoke from where I was. I-" Cassandra cut herself off, and glared at me.

"Look, next time I almost die, I'll be sure not to leave cryptic phone messages for you," I said. Not my best retort, and Cassandra knew it too, if the look she gave me was any sign.

Cassandra kicked open the door at the bottom of the stairs, which was completely unnecessary since it unlocked from the inside. Still, if it meant she took her irritation out on something other than me, what the hell did I care?

In one smooth movement, Cassandra flung the Daimler's door open, and flung me inside. Slamming the door, she slid in behind the wheel and brought the car roaring to life. We tore out of the alley like a bat out of hell, hapless pedestrians leaping out of the way as the Seeker pulled out onto the main road.

"You could've died," Cassandra snarled, sending me another glare. As if I'd done it on purpose.

"I know you didn't do it on purpose, Varric," she said, fingers white knuckle tight on the steering wheel. I was in worse shape than I figured, if I couldn't tell when I was thinking and when I was speaking.

"Do you mean you don't normally say the first offensive thing to cross your mind? I am surprised," Cassandra said.

Andraste's sainted asshole.

"Blasphemer," Cassandra said, almost fondly.

I looked at her, and could've sworn she was smiling a little.

My head was swimming, but at least the ringing had stopped. Unfortunately I was becoming acquainted with all the little injuries I'd sustained in the explosion.

The burns on my arm and face stung, and I felt similar aches along my left side. Nothing serious, but uncomfortable enough taken with the headache I was getting.

"Hey. Seeker, this is the road out of Kirkwall. What the hell are you doing?" I said, sitting up so fast my vision grayed out.

"You were nearly blown up. It was time to go, Varric. There was nothing more to learn," Cassandra said calmly.

"Like hell! I was almost killed! We should stick around, see who comes nosing around to see their handiwork! We should-"

The Daimler shot through Kirkwall's open gates like a bullet, and with that we were on the open road.

"We are leaving. An agent will keep an eye on the Hanged Man while we are gone. Kirkwall has seen enough explosions, I think. It does not need more," Cassandra said.

There were a lot of things I could say to that, but I was too busy trying to keep my head from splitting in two.

"The mage at the College is as good a lead as any. We're going to follow her trail, talk to the other students and faculty," Cassandra told me, darting a quick glance my way. Not that she needed my approval. We were doing things her way no matter what I thought about it.

"Road trip, huh? Sounds like fun," I said, feeling every bump in the road rattling my brain about.

Cassandra grunted in response, and I decided to see if sleep would fix any of my problems.


End file.
